Shadows Dancing
by LiesRungTrue
Summary: In 1945 Grindelwald was defeated, but not everything that was his was destroyed. Remnants from the last war arise to help the new Dark Lord gain strength and turn him into a greater menace than the one that came before.
1. Chapter 1

**Project Mutare**

_Prologue – Part 1_

Disclaimer: The setting and canon characters are J. K. Rowling's, I'm simply lending them for a while. Ara, however, is mine. Not that you'd want her anyway.

* * *

He'd expected an attack this close to his goal; although to be frank he hadn't expected it from her and certainly not in the way that she'd gone about it. He wasn't exactly old but then again he wasn't young either, and prying a full-grown woman off of his back while she attacked him tooth and nail was something he'd rather not have to do twice.

Still, it gave him the proof that the poor girl wasn't in her right mind, any normal witch would have tried to hex him as soon as he walked through that door. He got her off and Stunned her easily enough; she was ever-so-slightly built and hardly weighed anything at all. No doubt Grindelwald forgot to feed her more often than not; he might have liked his pretty things, and Maher certainly was that, but he lost interest in them so quickly.

Leaving her lying there was hard, but he had other work to do and the Imperius on her would lift when it was all over. He moved her prone form to the side of the room and went on.

Time passed.

On his way out, he released her from the Stunning spell, the others would find her and explain to her how she was now free; he had to go and explain the same to the others now first. Before he left though, he cleared the few bits of rubble off that had fallen on her during the battle. One piece looked to have done some damage to her leg, bruised it quite badly, but she'd heal, the others would fix her up.

He took one look at the gently stirring angel lying there on the floor and smiled, she was free; it was that sort of thing that made the war worthwhile.

He Apparated out before she discovered the corpse in the next room, before a howl of despair from a broken woman filled the night sky.

* * *

She'd run.

She'd run through dark alleyways and brightly lit streets packed with Muggles but to no avail. Apparating hadn't helped; they seemed to have some magical tracker on her, so that wherever she'd gone, they'd followed an instant later. She'd tried hiding, but the same tracker had given her away each time, even when she'd changed forms completely. Her suspicion was in the number they'd tattooed onto her arm, it was the one thing she couldn't change, couldn't hide and now, despite everything, she was tired, chased down like a rabbit by a pack of hounds till her energy was spent. All there was left to do now was fight.

She turned towards them, those hooded, faceless creatures and stood out of breath and shaky, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. They waited at the end of the path for her, just out of reach of the spells she would be able to cast with her remaining energy.

"Why are you after me? What have I done?" she pleaded, but the figures made no move to reply.

"Please, let me go!" she was crying now. She knew what was coming, what had to be the result of this chase. But she closed her eyes anyway, refusing to watch the inevitable happen. "I'll leave, you'll never hear from me again. All right? You've won, I'll go. Just please let me live." It was a pointless request, but it was always worth a try. It was just a shame that she hadn't said it loud enough for any of the cloaked figures to hear. Not that they would have cared if they had.

Two figures stepped forward, one supported by the other. The weaker was a female, she could see, a woman known throughout the Wizarding World and supposed to be dead, killed a number of days ago by Dumbledore when her consort, no, husband fell. The rumors were apparently wrong though. Terribly wrong she thought as the woman's arm rose. She was paralyzed with fear at the sight. All she could do was clench her eyes tighter and wait.

"Exuviae."

The screams that followed filled the night sky.

* * *

The door opened and she stood, head held high despite her condition. She still had her pride even though everything else had been taken from her in this living Hell. She knew the face of the person who entered quite well; it was the one who she cursed every night. This time there was something extra, an uncured leather, hooded cloak surrounded it, blood matted in the golden curls of the woman's hair. Despite everything she'd seen in her time here, she still felt bile rise in her throat at the sight.

"Lyta, how are you?" The musical voice of the tormentor sounded, edged with grief now though. She couldn't help but feel a little glee at her loss, whatever it was. She stayed silent, not giving the woman the satisfaction of an answer; she hadn't spoken a word to them since the first time they had met.

"The war's over, Lyta." This wasn't a surprise; it was a taunt she used every time they met.

"We lost, Lyta." This was new, and she let the astonishment register on her face.

"Apsel's dead, Lyta." And so she spoke to her, even though she knew what that last statement meant for her.

"Good. It couldn't have happened to a nicer person, Ara."

There was no reply, which was unusual for Ara, as Lyta knew she loved the sound of her own melodic voice. She just pulled the hood of the cloak down making a horrid wet sound as she did. The creature that it came from must have been freshly killed, she knew. And what was that strange marking on the skin that sat on Ara's left shoulder, she had to squint to get a closer look, her eyesight had been fading recently, no doubt as a result of her treatment.

This time she did throw up. The branding was unmistakable, not when she'd seen it so many times around the camp.

"How could you?" she asked, knowing it was a pointless question, the monster in front of her wasn't human, unlike the skin she was clothed in.

The answer she got was strange indeed, nothing verbal but the skin began to shift until a face appeared. It was her own; in fact the whole cloak had morphed around Ara's body to create a perfect illusion of Lyta's. And then she understood, understood everything. Why she was here, why these things had been done to her and most importantly what was to follow.

She watched as her own face smiled at her and then spoke to her, "It wasn't personal, Lyta, I hope you know that." And strangely enough, she did.

"Concremo."

The only sound that followed were the screams that came in from outside.

* * *

After it was done, another came in. Ara-who-was-now-Lyta turned to them.

"Turn her over."

The newcomer did so, the blackened corpse disintegrating a little as they did. They then lit the single candle in the room as it was getting dark and it was part of Lyta's routine to do so. Here in the camp the woman had lived in relative luxury, a prisoner only in name really compared to others. She was important, well up until the last few moments at least, and she was allowed light and food, in moderation of course. The body was rather transparent now, the candle light shining through it as the ashes fell apart.

Ara-who-was-now-Lyta glanced at the shining light and frowned, "Blow it out, and save all her ashes for me; they will help keep the illusion real. Then go, I will see you again when all this is over."

The figure nodded and held her hand for a brief moment before leaving. She knew what was coming though; without Apsel's support, the others would soon fail. This war was lost, both were. She only hoped that her dear husband's name would be remembered by Dumbledore and the rest of the world for when her time for vengeance finally came.

Oh yes, Grindelwald would be a name that would be known for centuries to come, as would that of Ara Maher. It would be heard in the screams of a thousand dying Muggles and Wizards alike for what they had done to her. She would make sure of it.

The happy laughter that came from inside was covered up by the screams of the dying as the Allies invaded the concentration camp.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**Project Integare**

_Prologue – Part 2_

Disclaimer: The setting and canon characters are J. K. Rowling's, I'm simply lending them for a while. Justus is canon and even has his own chocolate frog card (well deserved, too). Lena, however, is mine. But you'd want her as much as you'd want Ara to be honest.

* * *

The resistance in this part of the city was far greater than expected, the must be getting close now, he thought. Three weeks chasing the pair and they turn up here, not two nights after his people were here flattening the place, it was typical of this war. At least the bombing had left fewer places for them to hide; even now he could see one of his men giving the affirmative to a sighting.

"What we got, Arkadiy?"

The Russians had been too busy with battles on their own front to send help over most of this war, or so they said, but now the Ministry had started trying to round up the rest of Grindelwald's lackeys, these two in particular, you couldn't move for Russkis. Arkadiy wasn't too bad though, at least he spoke English.

"Several students and the woman. Moronova."

"Thought her name was Shapal, that the pair got married yonks back." No kids though apparently, except those 'students' of hers.

"Da, but it is easier to pick between the two this way, Justus. She has done enough to need separation."

"Fair enough," he didn't have time to argue names when the target of his hunt was in sight, "where's the other one? Shapal, Pieter, whoever."

The Russian looked through his binoculars again and shrugged. "He's not there."

"Damn it! We'll have to go in anyway, no point in losing her."

"Da."

* * *

The newcomer wrinkled his nose at the smell in the room; the chalk from the blackboard had mixed with the char outside and the morning's rain to give the place the stench of destruction. Rather fitting, he thought, considering the year's events so far in this place. A least he wouldn't be here long, he only had to pass his message along and then he could be on his way, any more time spent here would mean his absence being noticed at home and that would never do.

Passing the blonde-haired children sat at mismatched tables - a quick glance at their work showed family trees of all things, admittedly he did approve though – he reached their teacher at the front.

"A message, from Lyta," he said, passing the woman a small scroll. He'd included his own missive in there too.

"Thank you, Foma." The woman gave him a sleepy-eyed glance, dismissing him. "Pieter is around; I shall make sure he receives this as well."

"Of course." He was only too happy to leave; the black robes he could see out the window were only too recognisable. He'd just have to see if Lena made it to the meeting in the letter. No doubt she would.

* * *

"When you have finished your task, you may go." Seventeen pairs of blue eyes in angelic faces looked up at her briefly before continuing to work. It was at times like this she was almost at peace with the world; a room full of perfect beings… well, almost. It was a shame they were Muggles, but still, one could not have everything.

Only a few had left when the pounding on the door began.

"Shapal, come out! We know you're in there!" She recognised the voice well; Justus Pilliwickle had hounded her all over Europe and now he was just the other side of that piece of wood. It struck her fancy that she'd like to see his face before he died.

She watched the children as they took out their weapons - Muggle yes, but no less inferior for it for once – and stood in front of her. In good timing as well, as the Aurors chose that time to breach the room.

Lena waited just long enough to see her pursuer and the shock on his and the soldiers' faces as they realised they had waited a moment too long to attack. She smiled faintly when the first one of them went down under her students' knives and at their realisation that these children had absolutely no compunction about what hey were doing to, what were in their minds, inferior beings.

As she Apparated out, she had no qualms herself about leaving the children to their fate… They were only Muggles, after all.


End file.
